Tourette's and My Life Without Regrets

Here's a little fun fact about me:

When I was just a newborn baby, my dad would swaddle me in a blanket so tightly that the only thing I could move was my head. We thought this was what led to the head shaking that would persist in my life until the fifth grade. Looking back on it now, we believe that this may have been my first tic. 

A tic, for those of you who don’t know, is a sudden movement or habit exhibited when under stress. Most people are familiar with nervous tics, which many people demonstrate on occasion (clicking a pen back and forth, tapping your foot, etc.) For those of us with Tourette Syndrome, that occasion can last years.

I was diagnosed with Tourette’s in eighth grade after a bout with sickness aggravated what we thought to be everyday tics and we sought help from a neurobiologist. Tourette Syndrome is a mental disorder known for the excessive amounts of motor and vocal tics it causes in the affected individual. These tics can range from blinking to spasms, and humming to shouting. Coprolalia (the act of suddenly shouting obscenities) is an uncommon symptom that brought fame to the disorder with videos like Tourette’s Guy.

Most of us living with Tourette’s outgrow it (for the most part) by age 18. For me, my tics have been around my whole life, and show no signs of leaving anytime soon. It started with the head shaking, then led to a hum, then burping (that was the worst one, to be honest), to saying “dink,” then “pew,” then arm spasms, hitting myself, elbow spasms, shouting, head twitches, etc. They come and go in waves; some days are relatively calm, other days they're enough to send me breaking down in tears from frustration.

Coping with Tourette's isn’t as hard as it would seem, however. Despite the fact that suppressing your tics can actually cause them to worsen (think about it like an itch, or a sneeze), and that there isn’t a universal “cure," I’ve found some indirect ways to keep them at bay. To be honest, the hardest parts about Tourette’s are some of the uncomfortable interactions I’ve had about it (“So do you just swear all the time and say it was Tourette’s?” “Bless you?” “What’s wrong with you?” “Dude, that’s so cool. S@%#! F@*&! Haha amirite?” “Are you retarded?” are all things that have been said to me. I once had a shadow in high school who would hit me whenever I ticked).

Something I have in common with a lot of other people I’ve talked to who also have Tourette’s is that the act of creating something is often enough to divert the urge to tic into creative energy. For me, that drug is acting. For others, it’s drawing, or music. For whatever reason, getting up and making something and getting into that zen-like focus makes my tics disappear. Poof. Gone. People are often surprised that I’m majoring in acting (“Really?? Do you ever, like, twitch onstage?”), and people I meet in shows are even more surprised that I do have tics.

To me, my Tourette’s is what makes me unique. It’s who I am, and I am proud to be a part of the community dealing with tics. I don’t let them dictate my life or what I do. They’re here, yes, but so am I.

I never get mad at people who ask me about them. Even in public, I don’t let the staring bother me (a tic can be a surprising thing, it’s only natural to look). I’m not okay with remarks or jokes about it, and the absolute worst thing someone can do is imitate it. If someone ever opens up to you about their Tourette’s and is okay with talking about it, it means they’re comfortable enough with you that they are providing you with an invitation to help you understand them better. Don't spoil that. We want you to know that, despite all the stigma surrounding us, we’re normal people just like you.